Picturesque Sky
by Lapse - Raevn
Summary: One day, in the town where they lived and there were no other people – except for the faceless ones that they ran into sometimes – a train pulled into the station. Yaoi. SoraRiku.


Disclaimer: I don't make money off them; I just borrow the characters and mess with their minds.

Warnings: Yaoi. Imagery, creative license? Introspect. Fluuufff.

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Pairings: SoRiku.

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A SoraRiku for once. Because…Riku is always on the bottom. Always.

It's an AU (alternate universe), in which after the big battle, they aren't immediately given a doorway back to Destiny Islands. And instead of Sora passing out during the fight, it was Riku. (…Okay, it was more like he got stuck in that stupid annoying electricity bubble…thing? And we took control of Riku for a bit.)

All in all, one very messed up relationship.

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**Picturesque Sky **

_Eventually, the singing was too loud to stand, and they had to move away from the beauty. No matter how much it pained them._

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"_Run! The heartless are coming!"_

Sora came home, not to his own – not really - but to a live-in near an abandoned train station, at Hollow Bastion; fondly dubbed Radiant Garden. It was getting a bit darker outside, the fall mist echoing through the inches of air and vapor rising from the caverns that surrounded the city.

He put his things away; bags emptied of their contents and placed in specific cabinets and drawers. Shiny lime-green pears were placed on racks in the fridge, and it was also restocked with milk. Sora also added more water in the machine, to make ice with. The brunet pressed the button to make sure it was working, hand cupped to catch the ice that fell out.

Sora threw the rough cubes into the sink, turning on the faucet abruptly, then off again just as quickly. Almost like an afterthought.

He shifted the books on the tall, tall bookshelf, absentmindedly blowing away the slight trails of dust that came off. Thick tomes of knowledge and to him, useless information, were accommodated on the 16 layers of shelves.

The brunet himself would never read them.

"Hey Riku?"

He waited, hoping for a response from the other that slept on the other side of the room., facing the window; features lit up in such an airy way in the dimming sunlight.

Sleeping, like he had for the last two months.

"Riku?"

Sighing – it wasn't as if he expected a reply, but it would have been nice – he toyed with the idea of sleeping and rejected it. Instead, he slipped on his shoes at the door and flicked the light off, stepping outside again like earlier in the day.

He practiced his healing magic on a bird that was unlucky enough to fall from his nest on the trail, and vowed to try it again, once he got home.

The spell, strangely, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

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"_One sky, one destiny."_

He knew something was wrong when he got home and saw the cot empty and the sheets ruffled. Sora placed his hand against the mattress and noted that it was still warm.

Sora rushed outside, around the corner – always taking lefts – until he stumbled upon a sight of a teen with too-loose black clothing, holding up a keyblade painted in black and red.

_Riku_.

His hair was messy and eyes covered, with ruffled clothing as opposed to the neat, sleek and swift look that Sora remembered, but he could still recognize him, if only by instinct alone. The teen was kneeling, and before Sora could utter a word, stabbed the Keyblade into his own body with as much force as he could muster.

The Keyblade clanked to the floor, and then disappeared in a rush of sparks and a sharp hum.

Sora collapsed next to the being that had appeared, dwindled from Riku's body, his soul his _heart_.

The heartless pulsed with life, small chest filling and exhaling.

(Did heartless need air?)

Sora's arms wrapped easily around the creature, not giving a thought to claws that could suddenly pierce his lungs and remove his heart. He could feel the antennae against his hair and around his neck.

This heartless didn't have an emblem – it was made on its own. Not by Ansem, by Xehanort in his inane mercy.

It was _still_ wrong.

"It's Riku, it's still Riku…" he told himself as he clutched the being in a firm, but careful hold.

He trusted Riku. Riku had _always _watched out for him, and…

Sora wanted to return the favor. From when the older teen had seen him jump off Papou Island and land flat, plastered onto the sharp, stinging salt water.

And when the other had dragged him to shore, his own head sore from the impact, and called the others over while he went and fetched water.

"_Sora…?"_

There was a gleam, and suddenly Riku was in his arms again, legs curled up on the side and hair smoothed back from his face by Sora's hands. His skin wasn't the silky black of a heartless anymore; replaced by his own smooth and faultless pale skin.

"…Sora?"

He was shaking.

"Why…can't I stay that way?"

Softly, like a child who had done something wrong. Hardly a stutter in his voice. It was spoken in such a faint murmur, almost like a passing thought, that Sora was sure he had misheard.

He didn't think, but his mouth was moving as if against his influence.

"You're not meant to be."

It wasn't till they were at home again, when Riku was in his bed sitting up and facing the window with an altogether clear look in his eyes, that he replayed the words.

Sora microwaved more food that he knows _they_ weren't going to eat, but it felt wrong not to make some, anyway.

_They_, because Riku was _awake_ now, and they'd find some way to get home.

"Riku?" And Riku turned, in reaction to Sora calling his name. A questioning look from unclosed eyes.

Sora couldn't explain how _first-rate_ it felt to have a response, after all this time.

"Nothing."

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Sora hadn't thought of Kairi in a while.

The crimson hair began the image, with blue eyes that reflected the ocean at times. She was beautiful, in the way like a memory that wasn't quite real – he was sure he made some parts up.

Riku. Riku was real.

But Kairi was a part of them, Sora was sure, but whether or not she was waiting, he couldn't tell. On a big island with pure white sands that islanders blew into bubbles of glass.

Of a girl – _Selphie?_ – in a short yellow sundress, of a boy obsessed with improving his sword skills, of a suntanned older teen who loved to play sports…

Of his mom.

Of chewy pretzels and fruit smoothies that Kairi made for them in her shiny new blender, or Riku showing that he could indeed cook, or Sora showing up at the beach with some brand new plaything in hand.

…Back then, it was _perfection_.

And no matter how much they wanted to return to perfection, return to the big picture – the stars and the landscape – they had to heal first.

He couldn't help but think, sitting in his armchair and watching Riku watch the clouds, that perhaps that time he himself was a heartless, Kairi herself had done the same as he did.

Panic silently and _hope_ that he was doing something right.

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Riku had lost weight; it was one of the first things Sora had noted. Most likely from not enough nutrition in those months – hell, Sora wasn't aware of how he survived that long, now that he thought of it. The other hadn't _changed_ at all in his sleep – as if frozen in time – and now that he was awake it was as if those days were catching up to him.

His hair was longer, too. Layered silver brushing Riku's chin and his too-thin waist at the same time. And it was unhealthy, lacking the polished gleam and spring that Sora knew it to have naturally.

He made sure to buy more chicken and fruit from the faceless people at the store. Childhood favorites, Sora remembered.

…He wondered if this was how a parent felt, or how _just a friend_ was supposed to feel.

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It was March, or sometime nearing the spring, at least, that Sora kissed him.

He didn't know what had brought it up, only that the birds seemed to have stopped chirping and were holding their breaths, and the clouds seemed to be spelling it out for him.

They were sitting on rocks, somewhere on not-so-steep ledges in one of the canyon walls, and near enough to the rushing upside-down waterfall to hear the cracking of shallow water running over river stones.

Sora had bought them each a jacket, although it _was_ a warm February day. Riku's was thicker than his own; Sora had carefully placed a scarf and helped him slip on gloves until Riku looked like he was dressed by three caring mothers.

Riku had blinked at him afterwards, before replying with a smart-aleck comment of "What, I can't do it myself?" that almost ruined the mood, but made Sora feel better.

It took an hour of relaxing on the level rock sides that absorbed their warmth and made perfect seats.

The kiss was upside-down; Riku lying down and Sora hovering over him. Mouths met and when Sora opened his eyes, they were in line with the graceful curve of Riku's neck instead of his eyes. He pulled back, catching sight of confused sea-green.

The silver-haired teen's mouth opened, but Riku didn't mention anything, just laid there looking at him, and at the sky. But he didn't complain.

Sora felt content, sitting there leaning against each other for a while. When he looked over, his breath caught.

It was seeing Riku's untroubled smile, a true smile that hadn't lit his features in months, surrounded perfectly by the large canyons filled with rainbows and wet from the waterfall.

Sora smiled back with a nod. He was grown up now – his idea of _perfection_ had changed.

Or maybe it had just taken him this long to notice it.

In any case, it was _here_ and _now_.

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They were just the same height; perhaps Riku had grown to his full stature while Sora still had a bit more? In which case the younger was taller by a bare inch or two, scarcely noticed when they were walking.

They walked a lot these days, exploring the town. They went to the market, where unnamed people walked around and purchased food and gadgets from each other.

They bought things from the vending machines to try, jamming in more 'munny' when coins got stuck and grinning at each other when they received more than one item.

Sora and Riku played tag.

As grown up as they were, it was a game that never became old.

The booths were bases, and they were so wide and far-spread that it actually provided a challenge.

The people looked at them with unseeing eyes as they ran around them and made them drop packages, but they just picked them up and continued on their way.

Sora didn't question it any longer.

When they were sitting down, collapsed on the steps of the old station and breathing hard and laughing, Riku schooled his features into his traditional Riku-glare.

Sora couldn't say how much he had missed it.

Riku's accusing "You went _easy_ on me!" didn't kill the mood, no matter how much the other crossed his arms and turned away, sulking.

Sora laughed; he hadn't _let_ Riku win.

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_One day, in the town where they lived and there were no other people – except for the faceless ones that they ran into sometimes – a train pulled into the station._

_Riku looked at it, his hand clutched and his mind going through clear events of what had happened the last time he had wanted to explore, to get out of his beautiful island confinement._

_A hand reached for his._

_They looked at each other, then Sora dropped the bag of watermelon slices he had bought on the floor. It landed with a wet noise, but their eyes were only on the bright blue train in front of them, decorated with bright yellow stars._

_It was like a beacon._

_They boarded the train, and it took off, announcing its departure with a toot of its horn and puffs of steam coming out the top._

_**The windows were wide open, and they could see the sky.**_

_Sora sighed in contentment, his eyes closing, but the sun was strong enough for him to see orange behind his eyelids. He growled in slight annoyance, more for show than anything._

_Riku looked at him._

"…_Sora?"_

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_A songwriter's paradise and a poet's slumber. Who knows how long it'll all take?_

_Somehow, they don't mind the process._

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Leave a thought.

Note: Gutter Snipe's done! Just have to add in the details and have it betaed, and it'll be up. Then comes the sequel...

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